For once, it didn’t bother him very much that Danny sounded disagreeingly hesitant when reacting to his comment.

(It was worth noting that ‘very much’, in this particular case, like in all particular cases that he found himself trapped in, did not mean the same thing to Russell as it probably would to the average person. In this particular case, it meant that Russell froze up for a moment while internally panicking over what he interpreted as judgement coming from the other boy, and then relaxed a moment later as he decided that this was among the less important things that he’d been previously judged on. Partially because beauty was a completely subjective thing anyways and even if Danny saw the world exactly as he did, they’d still disagree, on account of just being different people. And partially because he wasn’t about to take it back. Fingerprints were amazing.)

Anyways, for once he wasn’t bothered, but then Danny added something about it being unique and Russell glanced over in time to catch the other boy smiling at him. Like, actually looking at him properly and smiling. What was he doing that for? The Californian smiled back automatically. Immediately after, he noted how strange it was for smiling to be automatic, followed by the realization that he might start blushing again, ugh, and he turned his attention back to the sheet of fingerprinted paper. Both of the prints that he had picked up were pretty swirly, numerous smooth curls and perfect loops forming rings from the edges right into the centre. Swirls were like smiles, except better, because they didn’t come from a person - okay, these ones did in a literal way - and that meant they didn’t mean anything - well, besides the whole identity bit.

“Left-handed, huh?” Nudging the looseleaf aside, Russell flipped through the suspects section, skimming each profile as quickly as he could manage; the pages felt like they had been laminated, or whatever the magical equivalent was, and the sheen it captured under the swinging lightbulb resulted in blind spots that he had to fidget around to read. “Doesn’t seem like-- wait, yes,” he amended, backtracking. “Jurate Luksa. It says she’s Kaz’s sister.” The possessive s on Kaz was awkward to say. Should have avoided it. Too late now. “According to this, she’s ambidextrous but favours her left hand, especially in Charms work… I didn’t know that was a thing people did,” Russell admitted, brow creasing in a thoughtful frown. He’d never even considered switching hands for different types of spellcasting, not that he could do much with his left hand anyways, but still.

“...Maybe one of us should do that while the other one works on matching the prints.”

“Good call.” Glancing up briefly from the binder, but only briefly lest their eye contact get weird again, Russell nodded to show he was on board. More than on board - he was more than one-hundred-percent fine with Danny taking the lead in organizing their teamwork. Neither of them had any experience with this kind of stuff, and it was better that Danny was in charge. He seemed a way better type of guy for that than him. Except now Russell had to make a decision. Decisions were hard. He was a bit worried about that laminate glare, but also, the prints were just neat. “Ummm. I’ll keep working on the prints, I guess. Although it might be slow progress.” Noticing that Danny’s hands were empty, minus his wand, obviously, Russell questioned, “Did you need something for the notes? You’re welcome to this.” He offered his notebook, running an internal check to confirm there was nothing embarrassing on the earlier pages. Maybe a few doodles, but nothing too bad, as far as he could remember. “Oh, and I have a pen, too.” Sliding it out the pocket of his cargo shorts, he held it out, consciously focusing on Not Reacting if their hands touched. As soon as Danny took it, he could go back to staring at the binder. As soon as… Now? Yep, now. Phew.

Russell confirmed - with superfluous, self-doubting commentary, naturally - that there were tea leaves where the cup had fallen (or more likely been thrown, or swept, or whatever). “Yeah, that’s what ... more